


Six Years Later

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, First Kiss, M/M, Protective Sherlock Holmes, Summer Romance, Teen Romance, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27846082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: Mycroft's managed to get out of summer vacations in France for six years, but this time he has to go. And he finds something unexpected.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 22
Kudos: 108





	Six Years Later

"I think he went this way!" Mycroft heard the boys run past his hiding spot. He stayed where he was, trying to slow his breathing. When he was certain it was safe, he stood, only to see the Lestrade boy was lingering a short distance away. 

Mycroft tensed, waiting for him to call out to the other boys, but he just gave Mycroft a small smile and an encouraging wave. Mycroft nodded his thanks and turned to hurry back to the cottage at the French seaside his parents had been renting every summer since he was small. Maybe next year he could figure out some way to get out of coming. He certainly didn't need the warm French sun, not with his complexion.

_ Six years later _

Mycroft was seventeen and in a terrible mood. For six years he'd managed to find reasons to avoid his family's annual summer vacation, but this year he'd had no luck. At least he was seventeen now and next year he would likely have the excuse of studying for school or perhaps a summer job. Surely he could survive two weeks with his family in France.

Not that he was looking forward to it.

At least there was other family around who could watch Sherlock. His brother was ten now, and still more than a handful. The upside of that, he supposed, was that his family was so preoccupied keeping Sherlock from accidentally harming himself or getting into all kinds of mischief, that Mycroft was largely left to his own devices. When he wasn’t being roped into babysitting.

They'd landed in France the night before and Mycroft was eager to get out of the house before they found some excuse for him to stay in and mind his brother. Aunt Stella had come along this time, with her two sons who were close to Sherlock's age. No doubt Sherlock would be teaching them all sorts of things in the time they spent together, but that wasn't Mycroft's problem.

Slipping out the back door, Mycroft went around to the lane and started for town. He'd lost a bit of weight in the last year or so, but he was still on the heavy side. It wouldn't hurt him a bit to do as much walking as possible.

The day was young and the village was just waking up. The coffee shop was still there and Mycroft slipped inside, ordering himself something and taking a seat in the corner where he could watch anyone else come in.

A dark-haired young man came in and ordered his own coffee before looking around. He spotted Mycroft and broke into a smile that made Mycroft brace himself. No doubt the young man would make his way over in a moment and attempt to engage him in some sort of... conversation.

Mycroft hoped his scowl would chase him off, but no, he made his way over anyway and took a seat. "Good morning," he said in perfect English.

Mycroft was caught off guard. "Good morning," he responded. "How did you know...?"

"Mycroft, right? I know it's been a few years, but your folks just got in last night. Greg Lestrade."

Oh.  _ Oh _ . Greg Lestrade had grown up quite a bit in the last six years. "Yes, I remember you," said Mycroft.

"Couldn't get out of coming this year?" he asked, sipping his coffee. "You know I always sort of hoped you’d come anyway, though I know you didn't get on with most of the other boys."

"That's one way to put it," said Mycroft, tone icy.

"Well, the good thing is most of them have moved on by now. Just a couple that are still around town." Greg completely ignored his tone.  _ Interesting _ .

"And what about yourself?" asked Mycroft.

"I'll be going back to London at the end of the summer like I usually do. One last summer here before I get caught up in university and life and all that sort of thing. I'm going to be a police officer."

"You'll be good at it," said Mycroft. Despite himself, he felt himself start to defrost. "I'm going to study government."

"And you'll be brilliant at that," smiled Greg. The warmth of his smile made something flip in Mycroft's stomach.

"Well, thank you. And you're right, I couldn't avoid coming along this year."

"I'm glad you made it. Have you looked around the village at all?" Greg asked.

"I only made it as far as the coffee shop," said Mycroft.

"Well, since it's been a few years, can I show you around?" asked Greg.

Despite himself, Mycroft found himself wanting to spend more time with Greg. "Yes, I think I do want you to, actually."

"Fantastic," grinned Greg. "Finish your coffee and we'll go."

Mycroft sipped his coffee, though part of him wanted to bolt it. What was he doing? Greg had never bullied him the way so many of the other village boys had done, but did he really want to spend the day in his company? His plan had been to go to the bookstore and whole up there for the day, but instead he found himself following Greg out of the coffee shop and walking side by side with him as they went down the street.

Greg was nice to listen to, switching back and forth between English and French in a way that actually made some sort of sense. The village had changed quite a bit since the last time Mycroft had graced it with his presence, but walking these streets with Greg actually felt rather nice. And Greg seemed to be enjoying his company. Which was ridiculous. Nobody enjoyed his company.

At last they stopped in front of a house. "This is my nan's," said Greg. "Do you want to come on in for lunch? She always makes a lot of food."

"Ah, well, I probably shouldn't eat too much," said Mycroft, patting his stomach.

"You look fantastic. Come on." Greg led the way inside. "Nana we have company!"

"Oh, come in, come in," said Greg's nana, smiling warmly at Mycroft. "I do hope you're hungry."

"Yes ma'am," said Mycroft, following her and Greg into the kitchen.

Mycroft was surprised to find himself easily talking to both Greg and his grandmother as they ate their lunch. "Thank you very much for your food and your time," said Mycroft when they finally finished.

"You are welcome anytime. You make my Greg smile," she said, patting his cheek.

Mycroft blushed. "Thank you," he repeated, turning away.

Greg led him back out the door and they spent the rest of the day wandering around the village together.

By the time Mycroft got home, he half-expected his parents to be worried about where he'd been, but it seemed they'd hardly noticed his absence. He could have spent the day hiding up in his room for all they seemed to care. Which probably boded well for the rest of this vacation.

The next morning he repeated what he'd done, slipping out of the house and going to the coffee shop. Greg was there again. Mycroft was suddenly very glad he'd been unable to get out of this vacation.

The next few days were the same. Mycroft had never really had friends, but Greg was very quickly establishing himself in that category. They could wander around for hours, sometimes talking, sometimes just enjoying one another's company. Sometimes they'd go to his nan's for lunch, sometimes they'd eat at one of the village cafe's.

The fourth day found them by the seashore at sunset, sitting together on a rock, watching the surf. "It is beautiful here," said Mycroft softly.

Greg looked at him and reached over to squeeze his hand. "I'm very glad you came this year."

Mycroft turned his head. It seemed as natural as breathing to lean over. Greg met him halfway, kissing him gently. Mycroft sighed into the kiss, contended. It felt as perfect as a first kiss could be.

When they broke apart, Greg was smiling warmly at him. He put an arm around Mycroft and tugged him a little closer. Mycroft rested his head against Greg's shoulder, listening to the sounds of the ocean, feeling cared for and seen in a way he'd never thought possible.

"Do you want to come over for dinner?" he asked after a few minutes.

"Sure," said Greg. "Now?"

"I think it'll be fine. They usually have a lot of food."

"Alright." Greg turned his head and kissed Mycroft again. 

Mycroft wondered if his heart would always flutter this way when Greg kissed him.

Greg held his hand as they got down from the rock and started back for the cottage. 

Mycroft looked at Greg, a little nervous as he led him inside. The adults were all in the front room, talking about whatever. He could only imagine what Sherlock and his cousins were getting up to. He was trying to decide whether to introduce Greg to everyone all at once or what, when his father came out of the front room. 

He smiled at Mycroft. "Who's this?" he asked.

Mycroft was relieved it hadn't been mummy. "This is Greg Lestrade. Is it alright if he joins us for dinner?"

"Should be just fine. Bring him in and introduce him to the rest of the family."

Mycroft swallowed and nodded, giving Greg's hand a squeeze before he dropped it and led the way into the front room.

Greg handled the barrage of questions from Mycroft's mother very well, if Mycroft had to say for himself. Greg was polite and honest and eventually she let him be. Not long after they headed to the dinner table. 

Sherlock and his cousins appeared just in time to eat. Sherlock looked suspiciously between Mycroft and Greg, but mercifully didn't say anything. Yet.

Dinner was fairly quiet, but when Greg excused himself to use the facilities, Sherlock also slipped away from the table. Mycroft was caught up in questions from his mother, so it took him a few minutes to excuse himself and go find his, well, boyfriend, he supposed.

He could hear Sherlock talking to him down the hall and froze, listening.

"If you hurt him they'll never find the body," said Sherlock.

"Good," answered Greg. "And I don't want to hurt him. I really like him, a lot."

"Why?"

"He's handsome, and smart and a good listener." Mycroft heard Greg shift a little closer. "And a good kisser."

"Ew," grumbled Sherlock, running away from him.

Greg chuckled and Mycroft tried to quickly head the other way, but not fast enough, because Greg came through the door before he could escape.

"Heard that, did you?" he asked. "You're blushing."

"Well, it's not often that handsome people say nice things about me."

"Oh, so you think I'm handsome." Greg batted his eyes at him.

Mycroft laughed and gave him a playful push. "Have you looked in the mirror recently?"

"I have. But I really do think you're handsome, too."

Mycroft shook his head, thinking of his every flaw.

Greg walked over and put his arms around his waist, kissing his cheek. "Handsome. And I'm going to keep telling you that until you believe it."

"Come on," said Mycroft. "I'll walk you back to your nan’s."

"Alright. Handsome."

Mycroft shook his head again and pulled himself from Greg's grip, heading off to tell his parents where he was going.

They walked back through the village under the summer stars, holding hands. "I know we're going to different universities, but I do hope you write and keep in touch," said Greg.

"I will," promised Mycroft. "I'll make time for you, I promise."

"That's all I ask," smiled Greg, leaning in to kiss him one more time.

"Well, let's enjoy the time while we have it," said Mycroft.

"Absolutely."

**

The next week flew by in much the same way, with more kissing and touching and Mycroft growing very used to having Greg in his life every morning. It was going to be terrible when he had to go home, which was coming up all too soon.

One evening, after another dinner with his family, he took Greg into the study and moved a panel in the wall, leading him inside and closing it. "I found this our first year here. Must have been used during the war to maybe hide people and supplies. But come on, there's some stairs here."

He held Greg's hand in the darkness and carefully felt his way forward until his foot landed on the stairs. They climbed up as quietly as they could, Mycroft holding his free hand above his head until he found another door. It took a moment to fumble with the latch, then he pushed it open, leading the way out onto a hidden bit of roof.

"Oh this is lovely," said Greg, following him out.

"I like to come up here to think," said Mycroft, closing the door behind them and pulling a blanket from where he had it stashed in a metal box behind the chimney. "There's a nice view of the sea from this one spot." He led the way up a bit of roof and then they were on a flat space above a dormer. "Don't look down or get too close to the edge."

"I won't," said Greg, sitting close to him and snuggling under the blanket.

Mycroft held him close. Up here it felt like they were the only ones in the world. He leaned back, closing his eyes, listening to the sound of the sea.

Greg shifted around and kissed him again. Mycroft opened his eyes and tugged Greg until he was laying on top. Greg smiled warmly. "I can see the stars in your eyes."

"Flatterer," smiled Mycroft in return, pulling the blanket over them both and leaning up to kiss him again. He could feel Greg's interest and knew his own was obvious, too.

Greg ran his fingers through Mycroft's hair, deepening the kiss. Mycroft moaned softly, wanting Greg, wondering if they should take the next step.

Suddenly Greg was shoved violently to the side. Mycroft barely grabbed him in time to keep him from sliding off the roof. Sherlock went for him, all a ten-year-old ball of fury, and Mycroft managed to grab him by the back of the shirt with his other hand. "Sherlock!"

"He was hurting you," he said, trying to take a swing at Greg.

"No, he wasn't." Mycroft yanked Sherlock back as Greg clambered back to a seat, slightly out of breath and looking between Mycroft and the edge of the roof.

Sherlock dropped his fists. "Wasn't he?"

"No, Sherlock. We were just kissing. We weren't doing anything else."

Greg carefully adjusted his seat, moving a little higher up and away from the edge. "I appreciate you watching out for your brother, but I'd never hurt him," said Greg.

Sherlock frowned, then shifted to sit between them. 

Mycroft pet his hair. "We were just kissing and cuddling, Sherlock."

Greg took another breath. "I'll just go on home, alright?" he said gently.

"Can you find your way back?" asked Mycroft.

"Yeah," said Greg, leaning over to give him a quick kiss. "See you tomorrow?"

"I wouldn't miss my morning coffee," smiled Mycroft.

Greg clambered over the roof and Mycroft heard the door open and close. He turned his attention back to Sherlock. "I appreciate you looking out for me," he said.

"Sorry I almost pushed your boyfriend off the roof," muttered Sherlock, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.

"No harm done, except maybe to Greg's nerves. I see you found the secret passage."

"I found it three years ago," said Sherlock, leaning against his brother.

Mycroft put an arm around him and looked out to sea. He'd been busy with school and his other activities; maybe he should have been paying more attention to his little brother. Maybe he should have been coming out here despite the bullies. Seemed like most of the bullies were gone now, anyway.

The night was quiet around them, the stars hanging close in the dark sky. Sherlock started to nod off after a while and Mycroft nudged him. "Come on, let's go on in," he said.

"Okay," said Sherlock, getting to his feet and leading the way.

**

The next morning Mycroft went to the coffee shop like usual, paying for Greg's as a way of apologizing for the near-attempted murder. Greg was late, though and Mycroft was just starting to worry and think of going to his nan's when he came through the door, slightly out of breath.

"Oh good, you're still here," said Greg.

Mycroft frowned as he got to his feet. "What's wrong? I hope it's not what happened last night, Sherlock..."

"No," said Greg quickly. "I know he was just trying to watch out for you. My mom called this morning and she needs me to come home right away. My da's been sick and he took a turn for the worse."

"Oh Greg, I'm sorry," said Mycroft, getting to his feet and scooping up the coffee the barista had wisely put in a to-go cup. He put his arm around Greg and guided him out of the shop, kissing his temple. "What do you need?"

"If you want to come say goodbye to Nan, she'd like that. I'm going within the hour."

"Alright," said Mycroft, putting the cup in his hand. They walked quickly to his Nan's. She looked worried and was clearly going to go with Greg; not a good sign at all.

Mycroft grabbed paper and a pen and quickly wrote his address and phone number. "Write me. Or call me, either way. We'll be here another week or so, and then I'm heading to university, but my parents will forward anything to me there. As soon as I have my new address I'll send it."

Greg nodded and took the paper, writing down his in return. "You better stay in touch," he said, meeting Mycroft's eyes.

"I will,” promised Mycroft.

Greg leaned and kissed him, one more time, sweetly, tenderly.

Mycroft gave him a smile, though he could feel his heart aching. "I'll keep in touch," he promised once more.

Greg nodded and turned away. Mycroft looked at him for a moment longer to memorize his profile, then turned and let himself out.

Sherlock met him when he was half-way home. He looked up at him, but said nothing, just quietly walked by his side. Mycroft was in truth glad for the company. At least he had Greg's address. And he would certainly be writing to him.

_ Six years later _

Mycroft rubbed his temples but smiled as he heard the front door open and close. Putting down his work he went to the door and gave Greg a kiss. "How was work?"

"Long, but there might be a promotion for me sooner rather than later."

"Good," said Mycroft. "You deserve it."

Greg looked at him a moment and bit his lip. "I should probably do this in a more romantic way, but I stopped off on the way home..." He pulled out a small box. "Will you marry me, Mycroft."

Mycroft's hands went to his mouth. "Oh, Greg. Of course I will."

Greg grinned and slipped the ring onto his finger, kissing him gently. "I love you. I think I have since we were kids."

"You know, I think I might have, too."

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr and twitter @merindab


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